


The Cat's Eye Restaurant

by ScribbleTheCalico



Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hostage Situations, Mild Language, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbleTheCalico/pseuds/ScribbleTheCalico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doc asks Marty to watch Jules and Verne for a few hours so he can take Clara on a date for their anniversary. While Marty struggles in his role as babysitter, Doc and Clara end up in a deadly situation when an old family friend recognizes them in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat's Eye Restaurant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leafpool2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafpool2/gifts).



> This started as me wondering what would happen if Doc ever asked Marty to babysit and it somehow escalated into a full-scale hostage situation. That's just how my brain works sometimes.
> 
> Currently rated T, but might get bumped up to an M by the time I'm finished. We'll see.

At 2:03 AM, Marty’s phone rang. Jerking awake in surprise, he groaned for a moment before rolling over to grab the phone from his bedside table. “Hello?” he grumbled out.

“Marty!”

“Doc?” All of Marty’s annoyance faded away at the sound of his friend’s voice, and he sat up. “Hey! Where are you? When are you?”

“We’re in New York, January the fourteenth, 1926, 7:19 PM,” Doc rattled off the time and date. “I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”

“No! No,” Marty replied quickly. “No, it’s, uh…two o’clock in the morning, but still…”

“Damn,” Doc said, “Guess I still need to work on this mobile cellular device of mine. Somehow it’s not staying relatively parallel to yours in the temporal nexus. Next time I’m in the neighborhood I’ll take a look at it.”

Marty nodded, his sleepy brain only getting the gist of what was being said. He vaguely remembered Doc telling him that he had installed a system to keep track of what time it was for Marty, so that they could always be in some sort of sync. “Yeah, sure, Doc. When’s that gonna be again?”

“Fairly soon, actually. You see, Marty, there was a reason, I called. Could you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Doc, what is it?”

“Could you watch Jules and Verne for a couple of hours?”

It took a moment for the request to sink in. Doc wanted him to babysit? _Him?_ With _children?_ “Uh…”

“It’s just that, well, Clara and my anniversary is in two days, and there’s this amazing restaurant I heard about in the twenty-seventh century. You take a shuttle out to the Cat’s Eye Nebula, and this restaurant actually circles around it. It’s supposed to breathtaking.”

“Yeah, sounds like a hell of a view, Doc,” Marty agreed. He already knew that he was going to agree to watch these children—he could never refuse Doc and Clara, after all, and Jules and Verne weren’t the worst kids he’d ever met—but he was still dreading the few hours he would be in charge.

“So, Marty? What do you say?”

Marty realized he had never actually spoken his agreement. “Yeah, of course, Doc. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Marty! Oh, gotta go, Clara’s coming. It’s a surprise, so…shhh!”

The line went dead with a click. Marty blinked in surprise at the abrupt ending, shrugged, hung up the phone, and flopped back down onto the mattress. He was asleep again with minutes.

* * *

 

The next two days went by in a blur. Marty vaguely remembered going to school, talking to his parents, practicing his guitar, but mostly, he remembered straining his ears for the sound of the Time Train arriving from the past. At least Jennifer understood—as soon as he told her about his phone conversation with Doc, she had smiled and nodded. While she would never have the same bond with Doc that he did, she did like him and Clara.

Finally, at 5:16 PM, two days after Marty and Doc’s phone call, the Train landed gently in Marty’s front yard. _Thank God no one else is home_ , Marty thought. They’d probably have a heart attack if they saw a train appear from thin air and set down in the grass. Plus he’d then have to explain that Doc had built a time machine, and that was a conversation that he hoped to avoid for as long as humanly possible.

Doc stepped out of the Train, sharply dressed in a nice suit, and did his trademark stupid grin upon seeing his friend. “Marty!”

“Doc!” Marty stepped forward to hug Doc. “How was 1926?”

“Dirty.” Marty glanced up at the sound of the voice to see Clara standing in the door of the Train and smiled at her as she continued. “But lovely. Emmett took us to a Gilbert and Sullivan musical on Broadway.”

“Cool,” Marty said, groaning internally as he saw Verne peeking out from behind Clara’s skirts. “Hi, Verne!” he called with a little wave, trying his best to be friendly. Verne immediately ducked out of sight. Great. This was going to be a long evening.

“Emmett says you’ll be watching the boys for us?”

Marty nodded. “I sure am.”

“He still won’t tell me where we’re going,” Clara complained with a smile as she took a step down onto the grass.

“Trust me, Clara, you’re going to love it,” Doc stepped up to his wife and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be a night to remember.”

“Yeah,” Marty nodded. “You kids have fun. We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Clara asked. “Jules and Verne can be quite the handful.”

“Naahh,” Marty intoned, waving a hand. “If I need help, I’ll just call Jennifer.” _I’m probably going to have to call her anyway. For my sanity’s sake._

Doc nodded and turned back towards the open Train door. “Boys! Come on out!”

A violent stomping sound took Marty off-guard before Jules practically came flying out of the Train. He began sprinting in circles around the yard. Marty closed his eyes and fought back the loud groan building up inside of him and opened them to see Verne once again peeking out from behind Clara’s skirts.

“Come on, Verne!” Doc held out his hand to his son. “It’s alright. You remember Marty, don’t you?”

Verne hesitantly grabbed Doc’s hand and waddled over. Marty crouched down to become eye level with him. “Hey, Verne.” No response. Perfect.

“He’s been very shy lately,” Doc said apologetically. “I think he gets it from me.”

“Ah.” Marty had nothing else to say to that. Verne stuck a finger up his nose. Marty tried to hide his grimace in a grin.

“Well, we’d better be off. Don’t want to be late,” Doc said as he passed Verne’s hand over to Marty.

“Doc, you have a time machine.”

“Still, better to be prepared!” Doc ruffled Verne’s hair with one hand and placed the other on Marty’s shoulder. “Thanks, Marty. I owe you one.”

Marty smiled. “What are friends for?”

Doc grinned in response and turned back to Clara. “Ready?”

Clara nodded with a sweet smile. “Thank you, Marty,” she said as Doc walked past her into the Train. “And boys? Be good.”

Verne nodded shyly. Jules continued to run in obnoxious circles across the grass. Marty wasn’t even sure if he had heard his mother speaking. _I got this_ , he told himself. _I absolutely…one hundred percent…got this…_

Clara pulled the door of the Time Train shut behind her, and the engines started up. Marty watched in quiet awe as the entire machine lifted from the ground, turned around, and sped off down the street, vanishing into thin air and leaving faint flame trails behind as it hit eighty-eight miles per hour. Damn. That part never got old.

As the sound of time travel faded into the background, Marty found himself still holding Verne’s hand. The kid hadn’t removed his finger from his nose. Marty smiled awkwardly down at him. “Let’s go inside,” he suggested. “Hey, Jules?”

Jules didn’t respond. Running in circles was simply fascinating to him. “Jules!” Marty tried again. “Come on, buddy, let’s go!”

Nothing. He tried one more time. “Jules!”

Apparently that time was too loud. Jules glanced his way, caught his foot on a dip in the ground, and went sprawling. Marty winced and hurried over to his side, dragging Verne behind him.

By the time he reached Jules, the kid was clutching his knee and howling like the world was ending; however, in Jules’s defense, there was actually blood trailing down his leg. The sight of his brother bleeding on the ground set off Verne, and before he knew it, Marty was crouching in between two sobbing children. He hung his head. It hadn’t even been five minutes, and Doc’s kids thought he was trying to murder them.

 _I need help_ was the only thing Marty could think as he helped Jules and Verne into the house and started searching for bandages.

* * *

 

Doc and Clara arrived in twenty-seventh century without a hitch, completely unaware that their sons were screaming into Marty’s ears seven hundred years in the past. Doc parked the Train somewhere safe, led Clara by the hand to the intergalactic station, and borded a shuttle bound for the Cat’s Eye Restaurant. At this point in future history, humanity had finally mastered faster-than-light travel, and the couple reached their destination in under an hour.

As the server led them to their booth by the window, Doc and Clara could barely concentrate on following him. The reviews were true: the view was simply breathtaking. The entire nebula could be seen through the window, and the restaurant circled it at a good pace, ensuring that the sight constantly changed angles.

After the waiter took their drink orders, Clara reached for Doc’s hand across the table. “This is amazing, Emmett,” she told him. “Thank you.”

Doc squeezed her hand and smiled at her. “Happy anniversary, Clara.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, enjoying the sight even more than that of the nebula just out the window. Then Clara asked, “Are you sure about leaving the boys with Marty? He’s a great kid, but he looked—”

“Ah, he’ll be fine!” Doc insisted. “That kid has handled being trapped in the past, the future, alternate timelines, and almost being erased from existence. I’m sure he can handle Jules and Verne.”

Clara still looked uncertain, but nodded. “I hope you’re right, Emmett. I hope you’re right.”

The subject forgotten, the two moved on to discuss the nebula outside, the shuttle ride, the advancements humanity must have made to reach this point…

Neither of them noticed the familiar-looking man observing them from the window.

* * *

 

Marty absolutely could not handle Jules and Verne. The crying did not stop as he bandaged Jules’s knee. Nor did it stop as he settled them on the couch with some cartoons. He offered them every snack he could think of—nothing worked. Finally, he simply had to fall to his backup plan.

The moment Jennifer walked through the door with pizza and Monopoly, the tears stopped. Marty wanted to shout his annoyance, but somehow held it in. Jules and Verne practically wrestled the pizza box from Jennifer’s hands, and Marty struggled to get them to use plates with their meal.

“Wow,” Jennifer observed. “They like pizza.”

“Yeah,” Marty agreed. “At least with all the time travel, they’ve had it before. I bet Doc made sure of that.”

“Well, I think Clara would be appalled at their table manners. I’m sure she’s taught them better than that.”

“Well, you can tell her, then,” Marty said, taking a bite of his own slice of pizza. “I want nothing to do with that conversation.”

When the boys finished their pizza, Marty put away the dishes while Jennifer set up Monopoly in the family room. Marty could think of few worse ways to spend the evening than playing an excruciatingly long board game with two children who burst into tears at the slightest provocation, but he had promised Doc, after all. And Jennifer’s presence eased matters somewhat.

Resigned to his fate, Marty returned to family room with a sigh and sank to the floor, grabbing some fake money and rolling the die.

* * *

 

Miff Tannen couldn’t believe his luck.

Here he was, repairing a window in a restaurant he could never hope to afford, when he spied a familiar white-haired man dining with a beautiful woman. He pulled out his tablet and quickly scanned some information. Yes, that was definitely him. Doctor Emmett L. Brown, time traveler. And more importantly, the closest friend of one Marty McFly.

McFly. Even now, hundreds of years later, that name still angered him. It wasn’t just that he had made a fool out of Biff Tannen in 1955. Twice. Or his involvement in the arrest of Buford Tannen in 1885. No, that could be handled. It was what happened in 1985, or more accurately, an alternate 1985. Before his death, McFly had written a memoir explaining his adventures through time with his mad scientist friend, and included how Biff Tannen had been rich beyond belief before he had swooped in and ruined everything.

Miff could be rich. He could be the powerful heir of a family with wealth going back for centuries. Instead he worked a low-pay job painting shuttles and repairing windows.

But all that could change. He just needed McFly. And luck had handed the kid directly to him.

Actually, luck had handed him McFly’s best friend. Close enough.

So, when the beautiful woman excused herself to find the restroom, Miff stowed away his tablet and followed her.

* * *

 

Something was wrong. Clara had been gone for too long.

Doc knew that he was probably worrying about nothing, but this had happened enough times for him to at least be cautious. When the waiter passed by, Doc quickly asked where the women’s restroom was, and set out to find his wife. However, as he approached, a hushed angry voice made him dodge out of view.

“Shut up and come with me!”

“No—mmph!”

That was Clara’s muffled voice. It took everything Doc had not to throw himself out and save her. Something in the man’s tone told him that he would need serious help.

“You’re going to help me get your friend Doctor Brown back here,” the man’s voice said, “and then he’s going to help me get someone else—Marty McFly. Do you know him?”

There was a banging sound as though Clara had just kicked her attacker in the shin. The man groaned slightly, but apparently kept a tight clamp over her mouth, as Doc heard no more protests from his wife. A door opened, and Doc risked peeking to see Clara being dragged into a supply closet. The man followed her inside and closed the door.

Marty. He wanted to get Marty.

He wasn’t going to.

Doc quickly pulled out a small device similar to the smart phones of the twenty-first century—his tie-in to the Time Train. He pressed a view buttons and hastily started whispering into it as he walked towards the main entrance to find help. There wasn’t much time, and he needed to warn Marty and get the Train safely to him as soon as possible…

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Doc turned to see the last face he ever wanted to see again—the face of a pissed off Tannen.

Before the man could do anything else, Doc pressed one final button. The Tannen snatched the device out of his hand, but it was too late. Lightyears away, on Earth, the Time Train lifted off, and rocketed to eighty-eight miles per hour, immediately traveling to its default emergency location: Marty. He had built the program into the Train months ago, hoping he would never need to use it.

“What the fuck did you just do?” the man said in a furious undertone.

Doc summoned all of his courage to respond. “It doesn’t matter now. My Time Machine is gone. You’ll never reach Marty now.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” The man gripped Doc’s arm and started walking him to the closet where he had left Clara. “I assume you know that I have your lady friend?” Seeing Doc’s pale face answered the question for him. “Then you’re going to help me undo whatever you just did to get McFly here.”

“Why?”

The man grinned, an evil grin that sent chills down Doc’s spine. “Why? He’s going to help me get rich.”

And with that, the two men reached the door of the supply closet, and Doc was propelled inside. Trapped with a furious Tannen who held his wife hostage. All he could do was hope that Marty would listen to his message for once and stay exactly where he was. He wouldn’t of course. But one could hope.


End file.
